


not selfish, just angry

by sqacey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqacey/pseuds/sqacey
Summary: his anger is selfish, or at least that's what he always tells himself. years of telling himself that, combined with years of hiding every single emotion but "happy" when  around his family have led him to believe this about himself. he's just being selfish, all he is is selfish.
Kudos: 1





	not selfish, just angry

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a vent fic because some things happened and i got angry enough that i clenched my jaw hard enough that it hurt for a few minutes while i was writing this and like.. i'm with my family so i can't show emotions so, that meant it was "project on charlie weasley" time because even if it's not fully in-character he's one of the characters i relate to the most.
> 
> this is unedited because i finished it at like.... a little before one am while still really angry and i really can't be bothered to edit this but like. i still like how it turned out so enjoy i guess.

Charlie threw a ball against the outside wall of Hagrid’s shack rhythmically. He’d spent most of his life surrounded by his brothers, always managing to fade into the background whenever one of them was brought up. Sure, he was going to Romania as soon as he graduated. He was going to make something of himself right after graduation, he already had the position lined up and everything, but all he still ended up in the background when compared to any of his brothers. He always ended up in the background.

He caught the ball again and held onto it for a moment, and then threw it again. Counting each hit it made against the wood, and then his hand. He kept trying to tell himself “ _ don’t get too angry this time. this isn’t worth your anger. _ ” with every single impact the ball made with the wood. It wasn’t helping. Of course it wasn’t helping. Throwing a ball wasn’t physical enough, though he couldn’t go for his usual anger coping method right now. Last time he showed up to a class with bloodied knuckles he had been stopped after class to be asked if he was okay. He really didn’t want to explain why he was so angry. His anger was selfish.

Charlie caught the ball again. He tossed it up a few times, feeling it’s weight in his hand, contemplating how hard he could throw it.

He tossed the ball exceptionally hard ( _ he was angry, though he wouldn’t show it. he couldn’t show it. _ ) and didn’t catch it that time. It rolled right to the edge of the forest, and he didn’t feel like going to grab it right now. Charlie sat down and pulled his knees to his chest and just stared at the ball laying in the grass. Maybe he should just kick it further into the forest and pretend like it rolled there on its own, just so he had an excuse to go into the forest and get lost. Maybe that would make people pay attention to  _ him _ for once. He didn’t make any move to stand up. He unwrapped one arm from around his legs and started tearing grass out of the ground. 

“It’s not fair.” He whispered, pulling a chunk of grass especially roughly, “I try and try but everything is always about  _ them _ . It’s never about me unless it’s in conjunction  _ with _ them.” Charlie stopped tearing at the grass and dirt. He took a shaky breath, “I’m just being selfish again.” his eyes were watering, though he didn’t want to cry, “All I am is a selfish kid who just wants more than he deserves, right?” ( _ this line of thinking always hurt him, but it’s what he believed. it was the only explanation that his tired brain could come up with. _ ) Charlie shook his head and stood up, wiping his eyes with the hand that he had tore up grass with, a hand that had been covered in dirt, which was now also smeared onto his face. That was fine by him, no one would notice anyways. No one ever noticed him, not anymore. It was always about his brothers, never him.

He walked to the edge of the forest where the ball was laying in the grass and stared at it for a moment, hands in his pockets. He could kick it further into the forest and give himself an excuse to go in there and have an anger-induced breakdown, or he could pick it up and pretend that he hadn’t had any of these thoughts, like he usually ended up doing. “Who am I if I don’t pretend like I’m perfectly okay.” Charlie laughed, bitterness seeping into his voice. He made up his mind and kicked the ball into the forest, and, after looking behind himself to make sure that no one was watching him, walked into the forest after it.

The forest was peaceful, at least, it was every time he entered it. He used it as his place to calm down after getting angry about something, even if he wasn’t technically supposed to be in here. He could get expelled if he was caught in here.

“Maybe if I get expelled, I’ll finally be noticed for something other than being their brother.” Charlie leaned his back against a tree and then sat down against it, “Maybe I should just let someone find me out here so I can get expelled.”  He shook his head, surprised at his thought. He didn’t want to get expelled, not really. Maybe before he had Romania all lined up for after he graduated, but now he had to think about that.

Things would be better once he was in Romania. He’d be with the dragons, researching dragons, rehabilitating baby dragons. He’d be far enough away from his family to get some breathing room, and maybe he’d even finally be known for something that wasn’t his brothers. That’s all he could hope for right now.

Charlie hugged his knees to his chest and let himself cry. He didn’t want to be stuck in their shadow for the rest of his life. He didn’t want everyone to think of him as an extension of his family for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to constantly have to hide whatever he was feeling for the rest of his life. 

Things would be better in Romania.

He had to keep telling himself that. He had to keep reminding himself of how close he was to finally getting out, or else he didn’t think he’d be able to make it. He was almost there, just a few more months, and then he’d finally be out of the shadow of his brothers.

Things will be better in Romania.


End file.
